The Journey Home
by kate213
Summary: Luka visits Croatia and has to face his memories and figure out where "home" really is.
1. Part 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the familiar characters; I just borrow them for a little while

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the familiar characters; I just borrow them for a little while. Don't worry, I won't hurt them!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize in advance for making up some facts, like the names of Luka's Croatian friends and family.If these are things that I should know, I'm sorry for not being true to what's already been established.Also, I do not know Croatian, aside from the few phrases I've seen in other fics, so I will write in English.Just assume when Luka is talking to people in Croatia that the dialogue is actually in Croatian.

THE JOURNEY HOME – Part One

Every year, this day seems to sneak up on me.August 16.The 15th comes and goes without incident and I wake up the next morning, unsuspecting.It always hits me at a different time.Sometimes it's right when I wake up.Or in the shower.Or over coffee, when I'm reading the paper and I see the date.August 16.My anniversary.The day Danijela and I pledged our lives to each other.Our _lives._We were so young.How could we have known how it would all end?

This year is a bit different.Now the 16th brings, along with its usual feelings of bittersweet sorrow, a sense of uneasiness and guilt.For in my drawer, hidden by my socks, sits a box.Red velvet.And inside the box, a ring.Gold band, diamond.Not too flashy or showy, but beautiful just the same.Like her.Not Danijela.Abby.And that box, that ring, that woman, is why I'm feeling guilty today.Today, on my anniversary, the ring is taunting me as it waits for me to take it out and propose to another woman.As much as I love Abby, I can't help feeling dishonest and unfaithful towards Danijela.How can I marry another woman?

I am glad that I don't have to work today, and glad that Abby had a graveyard shift last night so she isn't lying in bed next to me right now.I don't think I would be able to kiss her awake like I usually do, but I don't want to hurt her.There is just something about this day that makes me want to crawl back under the covers and not emerge until tomorrow.__

"Danijela," I hear my voice whisper.I don't know whether to curse myself for betraying the memory of Danijela by loving Abby, or for betraying Abby by loving the memory of Danijela.I know it's not fair to ask Abby to understand my lingering love for my wife.But at the same time, would Danijela really want me to fall in love with another woman?My head is spinning from the confusion of it all, and my heart feels even worse.

I slowly swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up.Crossing the room to the dresser, I open the top drawer.I know exactly where it is without looking.I pull the picture of my wife and daughter out from under my sweaters and, as always, my breath catches at the sight of them.They look so happy, so peaceful, so…alive."Tell me what to do," I plead in Croatian.As I stare into Danijela's eyes, I can almost hear her saying the words."Volim te.I love you."

Maybe it's a moment of insanity, brought on by the emotions I'm feeling right now.Maybe it's actually a message from my dead wife.Whatever it is, I get a crazy idea in my head and suddenly I can think of nothing else.I am going to Croatia.I don't even stop to think of how I will get there, or where I will go when I do, or what I will tell Abby…But before I can rationally talk myself out of it, I am on the phone with Kerry, telling her I need some time off.How much?I have no idea.But there must be something she detects in my voice, because she hardly argues.I never take time off, anyways, she reasons out loud to me.I tell her it's something of a family emergency, thank her, and hang up.

Still in a daze from this new plan, I look up the number of the airline and call and – wonder of wonders – there's a flight to from Chicago to Vukovar tonight.Who would have known – it's not every day that there's a flight to Croatia.It is eerie how quickly this is all coming together.Almost as if it were meant to be.

A half-hour later, I am thinking a bit more clearly and my heart sinks when I realize that I need to tell Abby…something.A glance at my watch tells me that she should have gotten off work not too long ago.As if on cue, I hear a knock at my door.I suppose I move too slowly to answer it, because I hear the sound of a key in the lock.The door opens, and there she is.My heart twists as I see her, knowing that my news will probably hurt her, that she will not understand my need to go to my home country so suddenly.

Abby sweeps into the room, worry painted on her face.A greeting dies on her lips as she notices the open suitcase on my bed.Her eyes swing back to mine, and the worry is replaced by confusion."Are you okay?Weaver asked me if I knew why you needed time off so suddenly, and I didn't know what to tell her…God, Luka, you scared me!"

I look at her standing in the middle of the room and hate myself for what I am doing to her.She deserves better.But, still, I can't bring myself to touch her, to tell her I love her – like I should.It's just too much today.I feel like I am suffocating here and I know that the sooner I can get this over with, the better.I decide to get right to the point."I'm going to Croatia."

She stands there, stunned."Why?For a visit?Is there something wrong?"The questions come fast as she tries to understand, but I only hear the last one._Is_ _there something wrong?Yes.There is something wrong.My wife and children are dead.Today is my anniversary and she's dead.There has been something wrong for over ten years._Of course, I don't vocalize my thoughts.But then I realize that I have no other explanation.

"It's just something that I have to do, Abby.I'm leaving tonight."

Abby's eyes are wide as, again, she tries to understand."Tonight?When are you getting back?"

I merely shrug because I don't trust my voice not to fail.I can't meet her eyes and instead go back to folding T-shirts into my suitcase."I don't know," I finally admit.

Silence.Then she speaks."You don't know," she repeats.More silence.Suddenly she gasps."Luka!"Her voice is sharp, penetrating into the fog my brain has been in."_Are_ you coming back?"

And I don't know what to say.Am I coming back?I hadn't thought that far, and honestly I don't know.Conflicting thoughts are flying through my brain so fast, and it's truly like one of those cartoon consciences with the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other.Only I don't know which one is good and which one is bad._Of course I'm coming back…No, I'm staying…_

I turn to face my girlfriend, the woman that I love, and prepare to do one of the hardest things of my life.Hurt her.I don't want to, but it's the only thing I can do.And again, I am struck with an intense hate for myself.I have failed yet another woman.I failed Danijela when I didn't save her, and now I am failing Abby by not being the man she deserves.But I can't answer her question."I'll call you when I get to Vukovar."It's the least I can do.But I hate how that one sentence sounds like a dismissal.

Apparently, Abby hears the dismissal in my voice as well.She turns to leave, and then faces me once more.There are tears in her eyes and it's all I can do not to hold her and never let go."So that's it," she says softly.And with that sentence, I realize that Abby understands me so much more than I give her credit for.She doesn't try to argue with me, only wipes her eyes and walks out the door.

I stare at the closed door, feeling utterly alone.


	2. Part 2

DISCLAIMER: Don't own them, yeah yeah yeah…

DISCLAIMER: Don't own them, yeah yeah yeah…

THE JOURNEY HOME – PART 2

It's finally time.I arrived at O'Hare Airport the required hour before my flight and have been sitting here in the terminal since then, waiting.I am very aware of the piece of paper folded neatly in my pocket and it's all I can do not to grab it, unfold it, and start reading.The hotel manager gave me the paper as I was leaving.He said that _she_ had given it to him and her instructions were to give it to me to read on the plane.The way the manager said "she" so significantly that I knew it had to be Abby.For the first time, I understand the American expression, "It's burning a hole in my pocket."But I have to wait until I'm on the plane, flying away from Chicago, towards Croatia.

I am sitting on one of those hard airport chairs with my carryon bag in the chair next to me so no one sits down there.I don't feel like talking to anyone now, and I've had enough experience to know that people tend to get talkative in airports.Looking at me, I don't think anyone would pick up on my nervousness, but inside I'm a wreck.My calm façade is shattered as the attendant calls my flight.I am so lost in thought that I jump clear out of my seat._Here it goes,_ I think.I pick up my bag and follow the other passengers to the boarding tunnel._Don't look back.Don't look back.Don't look back._The phrase becomes my mantra as I force myself to keep walking onto the airplane.It's foolish of me to think that Abby would come, but somehow I know I was subconsciously looking for her during my hour-long wait.But I have to go through with this.And so I repeat it to myself: _Don't look back._Walking straight ahead, I don't stop until I've found my seat on the plane.

The plane is cold.Or maybe it's just me.Whatever it is, I'm shivering as we taxi the runway.I barely pay attention to the safety instructions on the TV screens, so intent I am on keeping warm.Finally we are ready to take off.I clutch the armrests so my knuckles turn white, suddenly afraid.The woman sitting beside me gives me a sympathetic look, saying, "Your first time flying?"

I shake my head, unwilling to talk.It's not that I'm afraid of flying.But I can't shake an uneasy feeling about this entire trip.I have a window seat, and as I look over the receding lights of Chicago I think, _what am I doing?_I stare out the window until the lights of the city are tiny dots below me.Then we are above the clouds and I can see them no longer.I realize that I can read Abby's letter now.And suddenly I am hesitating.After all this anticipation, now I am losing courage?I shake my head at myself, exasperated.Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the paper.With a glance to my right to make sure my neighbor isn't snooping, I unfold it and begin to read.

_Dear Luka,_

_I'm not going to pretend that I'm happy you are going to Croatia.Somehow I know that this isn't just a friendly visit you're making.But, although I want to, I can't try to talk you out of it.Because there is something there that you have to do, something you have to face.I know that you haven't been happy being in Chicago lately, that you haven't been happy being with me.Because of this, I have to let you go.You need to be at peace with your past before you can start to live in the present.Believe me, I know.I'm still trying to learn that._

_You have taught me so much about that – being at peace, living in the present – and I'm sorry that I haven't been there for you like you have been for me.Thank you for helping me like myself again, for helping me see that there is more to life than the pain.I just hope that you can come to see that that is true for you, too._

_I love you, Luka.I haven't ever told you that, but it's true.I never thought I would love anyone else again, but I was wrong.And so I will wait for you to come back.I don't know if or when you will, but I will wait._

_Maybe I shouldn't write all this.I don't want you to feel obligated to do anything that you don't want to or can't do.But I need you to know that I love you and will miss you.I hope you find what you're looking for._

_All my love,_

Abby 

I am stunned.I read the letter over and over, marveling at how well Abby understands me.My heart swells with love and I consider catching the next flight back to Chicago at our layover.But just as swiftly as the feeling of contentment comes, the familiar doubts start creeping in.Danijela.Once again I have betrayed her.My heart sinks and suddenly I am exhausted.I can hardly keep my eyes open.The last thing I remember before falling asleep is folding Abby's letter up and placing it in my carryon, next to the photo of Danijela and Jasna.

I sleep fitfully, my dreams filled with images of Chicago and Vukovar.Abby, coming to my hotel room to comfort me after I killed that man on our first date.Danijela, dying on the floor of our apartment as I do CPR on Jasna.Abby.Danijela.Abby.Danijela.The images are swirling around in my head and I wake, sweaty and trembling.I don't know how to react to these dreams.My mother always believed that every dream had a meaning, but what could this be telling me?I should give my love to Abby?I should honor the wedding vows I made to Danijela?For the remainder of the flight, I force myself to stay awake so the dreams don't come again.

Finally we are landing on the soil of my home country.Immediately as I step off the plane, I am assaulted by memories.Smells, sounds…I am shocked to hear so many people speaking in Croatian.We are ushered through customs and as the official stamps my Croatian passport, he says, "Welcome home."My head snaps up to look at this man, but he is already on to the next traveler and I am left to wonder at his choice of words.Welcome home.Is this even my home anymore?

As I wait by the baggage claim for my luggage, I watch the activity around me.So many reunions.Parents, children, lovers, friends…I hear "Tata!Tata!(Daddy! Daddy!)" behind me and gasp, turning around.It's been so long since I've heard that word.A man laughs as two young children and a woman run up to him.He scoops up the little girl and boy in turn, and then kisses the woman.I have to turn away before my emotions get the best of me.Years ago, that could have been me.Should be me right now.

Fifteen minutes later, the terminal has cleared out and I am left standing with my suitcase and carryon sitting at my feet.It seems that everyone on my flight was met at the airport by someone.Again I wonder what I am doing here.I slowly make my way to the outside door and get into the lone cab that's waiting."Yes, I need to go to…" I begin in English out of habit and then correct myself, giving the driver the address of my father's house.For a fleeting moment, I consider the address of my old apartment, but I can't go there yet.I wonder if they've rebuilt.As we drive through the city, I stare straight ahead, not willing to search the buildings and faces of people for anything that would trigger a memory of my previous life.Then I realize how ridiculous that is.I am in Croatia, but don't want to be faced with familiar things?Crazy.And yet, I cannot make myself look anywhere but the road ahead of us.

All too soon, it seems, the cab is pulling up to the house where I spent my childhood.It hasn't changed in all these years._This is it,_ I tell myself, and get out of the cab.Since I forgot to change my money at the airport, I pay the driver in American bills, which he is only too happy to accept.And the cab is gone, leaving me standing alone in front of the house.I am suddenly nervous as I approach the door.I raise my hand to knock, but before I can, the door opens."Luka?"My brother's shocked face appears from inside and he reaches out to embrace me.The next minutes are filled with a flurry of greetings, questions, and explanations as my brother, Alek, calls for my father, who comes running from the next room.

Later, I am overwhelmed as I sit at the kitchen table with my family: my father, Alek, and my sister-in-law, Melisa.My father, having gotten over the shock of seeing me again, is beaming."It is so good to have the whole family together again!" he exclaims.An uncomfortable silence falls over the group as we realize that statement is not entirely true.The whole family includes my mother, Danijela, Jasna, and Marco.My father pretends not to notice the concerned looks that Alek and Melisa are giving me, and I take this opportunity to ask if I can make a phone call to Chicago."I'll be fast, and I'll pay you back."My father nods and suddenly I want to take my request back.Even though I promised Abby that I'd call her, I have no idea what I'll say.

Picking up the phone, I dial the long number, my hands trembling a bit.It rings and rings and when the answering machine finally picks it up, I sigh, realizing that I had been holding my breath."Abby," I begin, "It's Luka.I wanted you to know that I'm here.The flight was no problem, and I am at my father's house now.Ummm…I can't talk long because of the cost, so…goodbye."I hang up, relieved that I didn't have to talk in person to Abby, but kicking myself for sounding so cold.What is wrong with me?For what seems like the hundredth time today, I think, _what am I doing?_


	3. Part 3

DISCLAIMER: Nope, don't own them

DISCLAIMER: Nope, don't own them.

THE JOURNEY HOME – PART 3

After a week here in Croatia, I've settled into a kind of surreal routine.I get up early, before everyone else is up, and go for a walk outside.If my father knew, he would have a fit because, even though it's safer than when I was here last, you never know when there's going to be a sniper or an unexploded land mine in your path.But sometimes I just have to get out of the house, and the morning is the only time I can be alone.I come inside in time to eat breakfast with my father, Alek, and Melisa, who have been staying here so they can spend more time with me.

For the rest of the day, I go visiting with my father.Mostly we go to his friends' houses.He is so happy that his wayward son is back that he wants to show me off, I guess.They all ask me about America, about the hospital, about where I live…everything except my personal life.They skirt around the issue, as if I don't know that my wife is dead and at the mention of another woman I might go completely nuts.My father is no better – no mention of Danijela, Jasna, or Marco has been made since I got here.I suppose I should be grateful, because I don't exactly know what I would say.But once, just once, I wish someone would ask me how I'm _really_ doing.I wish someone here could see through me and try to get it out of me, no matter how hard I resist.That's the thing I miss most about Abby when I'm here.She always knows when something is bothering me, and asks me about it.Even if I don't tell her, it helps knowing that she cares.

After the day's visits are over – I'm beginning to feel like a circus side show or something – we return to the house for dinner with Alek and Melisa, and then play cards until it's time for bed.I never sleep very well.I end up lying in bed for most of the night, finally falling asleep when the sky is beginning to get light, only to wake up an hour or two later.It's beginning to wear on me, but so far I've been able to shrug my fatigue off by blaming jet lag and the adjustment to being back here.

I know the real reason I haven't been sleeping.It is so hard to get to sleep without the warmth of Abby lying beside me.It's different than when, in Chicago, she has a night shift and isn't there.Here, without her, I almost feel bereft, not unlike the feeling I had after Danijela died and I slept alone.More than once I have awakened, reaching out for Abby only to remember where I am.I wonder if she's sleeping well in the empty bed in Chicago.

Tonight, like every other night since I've been here, I can tell that I will not be sleeping for some time.I crawl out of bed and walk to the kitchen, trying not to step on the creaking boards in the hall.So intent I am on being quiet, I do not notice the light on over the kitchen table.

My father looks up as I enter the room and doesn't look surprised that I'm not asleep."What are you doing up, Tata?" I ask._Dumb question, Luka, he could ask the same of you._

"I am worried about my son," he replies, looking straight into my eyes.When he's ready to talk, he sure doesn't waste any time getting to the point.He continues."Why did you come back, Luka?"

I stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded.I have been asking myself this question since I arrived, but never before has anyone asked it of me.I sit down across from my father, not sure what to say.He seems to sense this, too, and goes on.

"When you left Croatia years ago, you were running away from what happened to your family."He holds a hand up for silence when I open my mouth to protest."I'm not saying that it was a bad idea for you to go to America.I think you have been happy there, yes?"I nod, as there is nothing else to do.I'm going to let him keep talking, see where this is going."So, what are you running from now?"

All this time I thought my father was oblivious to the turmoil going on inside me, when all along he was just waiting to find out what it was.I am amazed, and ashamed of the way I have been thinking of him.Even when I was growing up, he always could see right through me, so I should have known better.But at the same time, I don't know if I'm ready to talk about this, to dig around and try to figure out what's been going on with me lately.I am frightened, frightened of what I might find out, frightened of how much this might hurt."Ahh…" I try to begin, but have no idea how to continue.I make a helpless gesture with my shoulders and wait for my father to speak.He does, and again he surprises me.

"Who is Abby?"

That's my father.He doesn't say much, but when he does, it's straight to the point.It shouldn't shock me this much after all these years, but it does."How…" I wonder.

He knows what I'm asking."Your phone call.I cannot understand the English words, but Alek heard.He asked me if I knew anything.Is this a woman?"

I can only nod, flabbergasted.My father is going to have to do all the talking here tonight, because I don't know if I can clear my mind enough to find words."Do you love her?"At first, I think that this question is only in my head, but one look at my father tells me that he is waiting for an answer.And this time, he's not going to speak for me.The moment of truth.

Suddenly, I have an overwhelming urge to climb into my father's lap, as if I were a little boy again, and cry.I take a deep breath and, looking down at my hands clasped in my lap, I notice that they are trembling.I decide to go the safe route."She…ah…works at the hospital with me.A nurse.We're…ah…friends."I mentally kick myself as soon as I say that, because my father surely knows better.

"And she is the reason you left."It's a statement, not a question, but I decide to answer as if he had asked me.

"No.I wanted to see you.Do I need an excuse to visit my father?"This is getting too much for me, too close to the painful parts, and I just want to get out of here."Tata, it's late.Can we talk some other time?"

He smiles sadly at me."You're not going to sleep, anyway."When my head snaps up in surprise he responds, "You think I don't know that you haven't slept since you've arrived?Luka, you've been away for too long.You don't know your father anymore."

With that, I've been defeated.I know that he will sit here all night and all day if he has to.He's that stubborn.Like me, I guess.I am trying hard to resent my father's prying, but I know that he's doing it out of love.And wasn't this what I was longing for during all our daily visits – someone to ask what's been bothering me?The urge to cry comes again, and this time I give in.Laying my head down on the hard table, I let the tears come.I cry for everything – for Danijela, Jasna, and Marco, who I will never see again.For Abby, who I've hurt more than she lets on.For my father, who has to deal with a son in the middle of a breakdown in his kitchen.And for myself – the love, the pain, the sorrow all come pouring out as I sob.

My father comes around the table and gathers me into his arms.Kneeling on the floor, he rocks me back and forth as I cry.I cling to him, listening to his soothing voice."Ah, my son, my Luka…" he whispers, "If I could take your pain…"

I cry for what seems like hours, but what must be only minutes.As the tears subside, I begin talking.I tell my father about Abby, about the shaky start of our relationship, about wanting to take away the pain she feels every time someone hurts her, about the way she knows something is wrong before I say anything…and finally, about the ring that is in my dresser drawer."I…love her.But I can't love her," I finish heavily, feeling exhausted.

"Why?" he asks simply._You know why,_ I think.But I answer, my wife's name coming out like a sigh."Danijela."

What kind of answer can he possibly have for that?It is hopeless, loving two women.There is no answer, is there?


End file.
